Work Text:
saparata,
i am a greedy, greedy man.
when we talked of the world, all i saw in your eyes was the brilliance of the sunset sinking under the waves. the soft sway of grass in the wind. the scent of salty ocean air. everything else had fallen silent. with that silly smile on your lips, you talked as if there was a future to live for.
back then, i was naive. i suppose it comes with the realization that we're all so small in such a vast world. out there was nothing but the unknown. strangers, their customs and cultures vastly different from ours. outside your little abode was the clamor and fangs of politics. and i thought to myself — was there no fear in your heart?
there was in mine. there always was.
there is always fear, i think, in ambition. when it begins to fester in your heart, the future loses its colour. bleakness harbors caution — paranoia. upon the backs of people i have intricately placed marks. these are the people that will never see the light of day; these are the people whose kindness will be their downfall.
i've always thought your kindness to be stupidity, your generosity to be your ruin. giving food away to people you've never even met, conversing with each and every one of them as if it were mere child's play. how do you do that? your smile is infectious.
much so that in every smile that adorns all of these people's lips, all i see is yours.
i've come to hate it.
because how could you afford to smile? i see it in everything now. it glimmers faintly in the dark. times have grown dire. and the more i try to survive, the more i feel the need to kill you off so i could finally breathe in peace, i see it. endlessly. endlessly. your warmth envelops me and a chill runs down my spine. have i been missing this all this time?
is this what i had replaced ambition for?
in that patch of grass where we lay, your fingers softly brushed against mine. gentle. i looked up at the sky, then. a vast, deep blue. hues of orange. clouds, swept across the canvas. beautiful. everything is so soft, it kills me.
if only it could be like this forever.
saparata, i know i will die.
there is no justice for a man like me. these hands are stained.
the world will see you as a hero.
i am sorry to have condemned you to this fate.
but to death, i am a greedy, greedy man.
i will not let anyone lay their hands on me—
it has to be you.
no one else but you.
my soul will not rest if it is not you.
i hope that, somewhere, when the curtain falls, i can find paradise — the same blue skies, the same glimmer of the sun's rays across tranquil waves. the soft ocean breeze.
and, perhaps, you.
you, clad in white, holding my hand, your fingers interlocked with mine. you, and your wide eyes. soft hair, swept along with the breeze. your smile that lights everything in its path, even brighter than the sun.
you.
you.
you.
i'd tell you not to mourn me, saparata, but that would be a lie. after all, nothing could satiate a man like me.
i'll always crave your love.
-Fluixon, undated